


Back Alley Confessions

by satanchangedmypresets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunken Confessions, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanchangedmypresets/pseuds/satanchangedmypresets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides to do something he should've done a long time ago, but it takes some liquid courage to get him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Alley Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> This sprang from me challenging myself to write a Dean/Castiel confession scene I fully believed could be canonized on the show.

Dean bore the brunt of Sam's bitchface as he spun out of the motel room once again, having barely been back from the hunt long enough to shower and put on clean clothes. It had been a hard one, and they wouldn't have made it out if it hadn't have been for Castiel. 

Three wendigos. Three fucking wendigos. 

They'd been trying to get one trapped in a bunker with it's own well system and then light the whole thing on fire. Things had gotten bad when they found out, too late, that the bunker had an escape hatch and they now had three very pissed wendigos on their hands. 

The safest place had been in the bunker they had just set on fire, and Castiel was there before Dean even finished getting their location out of his mouth. It was as if he'd been watching over them, and Dean didn't doubt it for a second. 

What had him trotting down to the bar and tapping on the counter, asking for "Liquid courage, my man," and draining the first shot that came to him was how Castiel had looked, bathed in firelight, his vessel almost immediately breaking into a sweat. For a terrifying second, Dean's mind had blanked as he watched a drop of sweat roll down the long expanse of Castiel's throat and imagined Castiel dripping sweat for an entirely different reason. 

"Whatcha gearing yourself up for, kid?" The old barkeep asked as he refilled Dean's shotglass, and Dean didn't even bother to sit down as the warmth of the alcohol began to work its way to his fingertips. 

"I'm about to do something I should've done a long time ago," Dean said simply. "Before I lose him again."

Another three shots taken in quick succession and Dean was feeling mighty high and pretty damn confident. With a wink and a wish of good luck from the travel-worn barkeep, he stepped outside into the crisp clean air of the night. The alleyway was clean, surprisingly, and Dean leaned against the brick wall, looking up at the bright burst of stars above. 

"Hey, Cas, wanna talk to you," Dean silently cursed as his words slurred. The alcohol was hitting him harder than he thought. What the hell had the barkeep been giving him? Moonshine? "Come down here."

After a moment of radio silence, Dean smirked and added "Feathery ass." 

Just for good measure. Not because he was thinking about Castiel's ass. 

"You're intoxicated." 

Castiel's voice sent a flare of heat through him and for once, Dean didn't fight it. He shoved himself off the wall, turning to face Castiel, and grit his teeth when he stumbled slightly. 

"Yeah, well, I got to talk to you, and I wasn't gonna do this sober." 

Castiel stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "I'm taking you back to your room, Dean. You are far too intoxicated for conversation." 

"No!" Dean demanded, reaching out to grip Castiel's shoulder. "Shut up and let me talk." 

Castiel sighed, but the look in his eyes was one of resigned but undivided attention. "As you wish." 

Dean tried to step back and ended up stepping forward. As usual, Castiel did nothing to compensate for the sudden lack of personal space, and Dean could feel the heat pouring off the angel. Heat he wanted more of. 

"Dammit, focus," He muttered, shaking his head. Castiel said nothing, but patiently waited for him to continue. 

"Cas," Dean started again. "Cas _tiel..._ I like you. A lot." 

"I like you as well, Dean," Castiel offered, and Dean felt a traitorous flare of hope even when he knew Castiel didn't understand. 

"I don't like it when you're gone." Dean continued. "I want you to stay. With me. And more than that, I..." 

Even drunk, his words failed him, and Dean sighed, taking in the patience with which Castiel continued to regard him. "I really really like you, Cas." 

"I understand," Castiel said softly. "Now please allow me to take you home."

Dean shook his head. "You don't understand. Dammit, Cas, why do you have to be so damn hard to talk to?"

He saw hurt flash in Castiel's eyes and immediately regretted his words. 

"I am trying, Dean," Castiel spoke low, the gruff edges of his voice tinged in defense. 

"I know," Dean nodded, closing his eyes as he tried to think. "Castiel..." 

"What are you trying to tell me?" Castiel asked quietly and Dean smiled. Well, if words wouldn't work, then maybe actions could. 

He brought his hand up from Castiel's shoulder to cradle the line of his jaw, running his thumb over the stubble there. Oh, Castiel and his perpetual stubble, the confusion and yet vast intelligence behind his eyes, and that god-forsaken trenchcoat...yeah, he was head over heels, gone over the edge into the deep end, past the point of no return. 

His thumb caught the edge of Castiel's bottom lip and Dean was certain his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. He leaned forward, glancing up at Castiel, gauging his reaction and giving him a chance to back away, but Castiel didn't move, instead watching him through curious eyes. 

The first brush of their lips sent a spark through Dean, just as vibrant and terrifying as the time he'd been electrocuted, and just as deadly. It was warm, light, and over far too soon as he pulled away, his lips burning with the taste of Castiel. 

Castiel was staring up at him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. For a moment, his mouth worked as if he was trying to speak, but then he stopped and simply continued staring. Dean barked a frightened laugh, taking half a step back to let Castiel breath. You know, if angels breathed.

"So...you and me...could this become a thing?" 

Castiel licked his lips, and Dean tried and failed not to follow the motion with a hungry gaze. 

"Please, bear with me," Castiel murmured. "Are you asking me to embark on a romantic relationship with you, or are you simply interested in engaging in sexual intercourse?"

"Well, I mean, um..." Dean sputtered, taken aback. "Yeah, sex, eventually, totally, not saying I don't want to because damn...but um...the first one?"

The sigh that burst from Castiel was one of relief and unadulterated joy, and Dean laughed when Castiel surged up to catch his lips, wrapping his arms tight around Dean's shoulders. Their second kiss was everything the first wasn't: hungry, desperate, and full of every second they had been unwillingly apart. 

Still, Castiel pulled away too soon, pressing one more, smaller kiss to his lips, and Dean looked at him in confusion. 

"Ask me again when you are sober," Castiel said with a smile and Dean groaned. 

"Oh, come on, Cas! That's not fair!" 

"I'm taking you home now." Castiel was smirking as he wrapped an arm around his waist, and Dean slung an arm around his shoulders for support. 

"Can I write it down?" 

"I will accept that, yes."

* * *

A few weeks later, Sam was checking Dean's pockets at the laundromat and pulled out a small, crumbled up paper. Opening it, he smiled at his brother's crude handwriting above two check boxes. 

_You + Me?_

_Yes or Hell yes._

Both boxes were checked. 


End file.
